Excerpt from The House on Legs

Shadow by shadow, night inches up the hill and the sky turns yellow orange bruise-blue indigo in the gaps between the gums on the ridgeline. Then, when everything dims to black, you can see it up there on the slope – the only place for miles around, firelight burning its jack-o-lantern windows into the dark. There are thin slashes of orange where rough-hewn vertical boards don’t quite meet, a stripe for the gap at the bottom of the door. And that’s all you can see of the house on legs, unless you count the occasional half-hearted firework of embers bursting out from the place where the chimney must be.